Explanations
by BlackOpalofDoom
Summary: What if the scientist hadn't created all the stitchpunks? Join the newest one, and learn her views on various events from the movie. OC, one-sided love, premovie and postmovie. Many spoilers, so if you havn't seen 9 , don't read!
1. Chapter 1

Explanations

Well hi there! As some may know, this is my first 9 fanfic, but I'm not going to complain or warn that it may suck. In the end, if it does suck, then STOP READING. There's no point rotting your brain if you don't have to. That said, I do not own 9 or any of its characters or concepts. I only own 10 and (most!) of her ideas that she writes in her journal.

For those who care, I haven't given up on In With the Pack. Assyria's tired of haulin' ass and kickin' ass and she needs a break. And Ryou can be stressful...

Onz Ward! To the fic!

_I once heard that the world had ended._

_Or so I thought I heard it. To be honest, I couldn't tell you who I heard it from, or when. All I know is that it had been said. So it must be cannon, right?_

_I wouldn't have doubted it for a second. The world I entered was of darkness.... It was cold and empty, safe for the voices, the voices that never stopped..._

_I once heard that the world had ended. And somehow, I think the horror is the truth. _

The stone beneath her back was cold. It made her feel hollow inside; she sat up and slowly opened her eyes. The world was dark-- too dark to really see anything-- and empty, from what she could tell. She lifted a hand to her spinning head--

Wait a minute. A hand? She looked at it, at the blackened steel fingers. They were round phalanges that ended with dull points: Not sharp enough to scratch or to cause any real damage, but just enough to pull apart fine threads, if she had to. But when would she have to? Why would that thought even come to her mind?

_You know why._

Startled, she twisted around quickly, searching for the source of the voice. The gloom was thick as wool. She saw no one.

A gust of wind caused her to shiver as it blew right through her. Why was she here? What sick mistake was she a part of, being dumped in hell like this?

"What the fuck." she said monotonously.

This surprised her. The sound was from her; she knew it to be true, she had consciously made it. But it sounded.....wrong. She glanced down, bringing a hand to her chin in contemplation.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!?!!?" She barked. That was better, but still not quite right. The pitch was alright, but the volume...not so much. She thought again.

_Take the middle ground idiot._

_Just do it. No questions. Is talking REALLY that hard for you?_

Again, she spun around, not quite sure who was talking to her. Whoever it had been the first time, they had multiplied: there now three voices. But there were still no sources of them. Her brow furrowed in frustration.

"What the fuck?" she sighed.

That was it. The words sounded wrong and almost dirty, but she didn't understand why. They are words, no? Things that can be manipulated with no hard feelings in the end. Or at least that was what a fourth voice told her. She frowned. What were words? What did it mean for them to be dirty? Why was THAT the only thing she could think of? Sure, she had a million and one questions. She could have streamed out a string of them and circled the world twice. But somehow, "What the fuck" seemed to sum them up nicely. So she didn't argue.

She shoved herself up from the icy stone. Her knees, where ever they were in the darkness, wobbled weakly. She took a step...and almost collapsed. She stood again, and this time was able to walk around with no trouble...

...Until she fell.

It had been sudden. The stone ground beneath her feet was suddenly not there, and with her next step she plummeted into the night. She only had time to gasp before her fall made her guts (or the ones she didn't have) hit the floor. And she, too, landed harshly in a clump of dusty earth. She coughed, now certain that she was not likely to return to her previous cold post, and pushed herself to her feet with shaking arms. The spinning returned, and she held her hand to her head to steady it. She stumbled drunkenly through the gloom, colliding and tripping over various objects.

_Watch where you're going!_

_Klutz. Why am I trapped here in YOU?_

_Hey, you two aren't the only ones here! _

_Get out. Quickly...._

She liked this final voice. It was soft and kind, albeit a bit demanding, but much more understanding than the other three. But where was it coming from? And the other three? She shook herself free of these queries. Get out, the kind voice had said. She would-- Maybe freeing herself of...where ever she was would answer some question and shut the three malignant voices up.

Her stumbling sent her straight into the blinding light. Where it had come from, she wasn't sure. She held her arm up to shied her eyes. They adjusted slowly, but one they did, she could see odd patterned fabric in front of her. Was that...her arm? It had seemed blackish in the dark...She turned her head around to the place she had just come from...what was it?

_A cave, dumbass_, said voice one.

She blinked. "Shut up," she replied, and then looked a bit shocked that she had. But it didn't matter. The voice quieted itself. She returned her attention to her arm. It was a deep green color, with skinny stripes of blue. Or was it blue with thick bars of green? She wasn't sure, wasn't even sure she understood the concept of 'color'. Where had the word come from?

Before another voice could assault her, she busied herself with studying the rest of her body. A similar fabric composed most of her body, except for a square shaped patch sewn on her side and jutting across her stomach like a shark bite to the side. What was a shark? Why had she thought of that?

_You're doing it again. Being stupid. Stop that_, voice 2 took its opportunity at attacking her.

_Where are they coming from?_ she wondered.

_Inside_, said a soft voice.

She blinked. It made sense. Voices, but no bodies. So they must be inside of her, for she could hear them clear as day but they had no external stimuli.

_Well, Sherlock, one mystery down._

_Who's Sherlock?_

* * *

She had begun her journey, unsure of where she was to go. She scanned the world she was now in: There didn't seem to be any where _to_ go. From rock to cinder block, she leapt around, traveling downward. She had been at the top of a hill, and looking back, the cave she had immerged from actually a tent-like structure. The gusty wind rippled its vibrant red sheet. She wasn't sure of why she had woken there. Had she always been there? Where had she come from? She hadn't paid much mind to where she was going, and when she landed from a particularly long jump down, her foot caught something and she slipped.

"What the?" she said. She saw something about the size of a postage stamp, black and leather bound, and thick. Curious, she crawled over and picked it up. It was filled with yellowish lined paper, but there was no story. It was empty... just like her, and the world she was in. Empty and blank. The only difference between her and the book was that the book probably had a better idea of its location than she did of hers. But she liked the book. It was smooth under her fingers, and it smelled nice. She sat nostalgically, not sure what she was being nostalgic about, but all the same thinking and remembering that that did not happen. She wanted to take the book with her; what she would do with it, she didn't know, but she wanted to keep it. It made her happy, and silenced the babbling voices. She searched her person for a way to carry it. She didn't want to walk around with it in her hand. What if she dropped it? Or placed it down somewhere and forgot it?

On her left side was the patch of red. Across her stomach was a zipper, its handle dangling from the right side of her waist. She took hold of it, frightened of what might happen if she unzipped it. She would be opening herself up, no? Would all her insides fall out? She inhaled deeply, and counted three beats before yanking the zipper open with such a violence that the handle popped off. She flinched, terrified. It had hurt slightly when the handle had come off, but other than that...nothing happened. She reached her black fingers underneath the teeth and pulled the lip of her abdomen up, peering inside curiously. It was mostly dark, but from what she could see, she was pretty empty inside. She reached in, and felt that it wasn't nearly as deep as she had thought.

She held her newly prized possession in one hand, and her broken appendage in the other. She shrugged, and shoved the two items into her stomach. They both fit well, with room for more treasures, but she would leave treasure hunting for another day. She fumbled with the tiny loop on her zipper with her fingers. They were just pointed enough to grip it, and she pulled her abdomen shut. _There_, she thought, _no biggie_. She let go.

Or tried to, anyway.

She pulled and pulled with all her might. Her fingers were stuck! She tried to unclench them, but they were lodged beneath the rectangular shaped hole where the zipper used to attach to. Her right hand was now connected to her stomach. Great, she thought. She was a bit nervous. One less hand in this world seemed dangerous, and she had only been in it for about an hour! Who knew what she might encounter?

As if on cue, she heard the sound of footsteps nearby. She gasped in fear; if she had a heart, then it had stopped. She trembled. Panicking, she ran behind a large (well, for her) boulder, back pressed against it. Her breaths came in heavy gasps as she struggled to free her right hand from the zipper, but she couldn't; her fingers were well lodged. She listened intently: the footsteps were coming closer, but they didn't sound like they were coming from anything particularly heavy or large. Perhaps she could fight it?

_No, run,_ said the fourth voice. _It's safer that way._

She looked up at the looming cliffside and then around the canyon she was trapped in. _I can't_, she acknowledged dreadfully.

_Then do the logical thing_, said voice number one as she leaned over to pick up a thick club-like splinter of wood, _and kick its ass._

The steps were loud now. Their creator would be passing by any moment...

She sucked in a breath and rounded the corner, flailing her twig. Her eyes were shut tight, and she felt her victim's body squirm as she pummeled it with her weapon. She yelled, hoping that if the abuse failed to scare it, her "big noise" would instead.

Something grabbed hold of her arm, and she instinctively turned on her new offender. Her eyes flung open to see that her "offender" was no monster, but a being much like herself, only...older. His face was flooded with concern, as were his words. "It's alright, calm down! Dear child, you are fine!"

She dropped her bludger quickly, shaking all over. She had almost beaten the living daylights out of a poor old man! She quickly turned to the one she _had_ beaten, and was slightly relieved to see that he was much younger than his partner. His hands were held over his head, warding off any additional attacks he might receive. He peeked up at her to see she was disarmed, and slowly lowered his arms with a look of caution and fear etched into his face. "What was that for?" he asked, bewildered.

She couldn't speak. It was as if she had forgotten what words were and how to use them-- although, this was quite possible, sinse she still wasn't sure how speaking worked yet. She was mortified, and she tried to run away but the shorter being grasped her arm that was immobilized and began examining her. "What happened here, dear?" he said, his tone that of a sincerely intrigued physicist. She tugged a bit, trying to recoil away, but let him study her. His friend sighed and rubbed his head. "No, that's ok, Too, I'm fine."

"Oh, don't be so silly. She hit you with a flimsy sliver of wood."

"It still hurt!"

The older one, Too, chuckled in good humor. "I've had much worse pain inflicted on me, m'boy." He took the chance to look up at his comrade, and his expression changed to worry. "Oh, you _are_ hurt." He released his captive and hobbled over to his burlap friend. A thick leather patch that was sewn over where his left eye was supposed to be was lesion and peeling open. On Too's back was a large number 2 drawn in ink...

_Oooooh_, she thought, _his name is __**2**_.

_Duh_, replied voice 1 irritatedly.

2 swung his friend around, causing him to stumble. On the burlap being's back, much like his elder, was an upside down 2, or maybe it wasn't. She counted in her head, trying to remember things she had never learned. 2 was busy rummaging through a quiver that was strapped to his friend's back, and soon produced a sewing needle equipped with thread. He half pushed his friend down, who rolled his one optic as he plopped on his rear. His...mentor, maybe? She wasn't sure of their relationship. Were they brothers? Father and son? Cousins?

_Gay lovers?_ suggested voice 1.

_What are those?_

* * *

When 2 had finally completed mending his accompanist, the green being was still there. She had stood by and watched in avid fascination as the thread pulled the hole in 'Upside-down 2's' head shut. And with a gentle knot, it was complete. Some loose string hung from the patients head, making him look ridiculous.

He stood up and brushed himself off, then smiled sweetly to 2. "Thanks."

"Anytime, m'boy," was his reply.

Both boys looked up at the now awkward looking green stitchpunk, who was, once again, attempting to free her right hand. The younger one chuckled as he approached her. "Need a hand?"he offered. But she didn't reply, only swiftly recoiled backwards until her back bumped the rocky wall. He gave her a puzzled look. "Hey, take it easy. I just want to help." Again, he approached her, this time much more slowly, and gingerly helped her unlodge her index finger and thumb from the tiny loop of the broken zipper. His eye held hers the whole time. She stretched and flexed her now free hand, looking down at it in slight surprise. "Better?" her new friend asked.

She looked up at him. "Y-ya. Thank you."

His face lit up a bit as he smiled. "So you can talk!"

She frowned, feeling a bit offended. "Course I can. I'm not stupid." She quickly covered her mouth and hastily apologized. The other laughed. "It's alright. I was only joking anyway."

2 came up to his friend, smiling kindly. "We didn't mean to startle you. My name is 2. This is my apprentice, Feyev."

_Feyev…Wait_, thought the green girl, _1, 2….Feyev…5? A 5 is an upside-down 2, no?_

"5…" she pondered, and the burlap being gave her a funny look. She looked up, still puzzled. "5 is a number?"

"….ya…"

She smiled, embarrassed at her ignorance. "I….thought so."

"So, what is your name?"

She froze. What WAS her name? She had been alive for maybe an hour and a half. There had been no one to stand up and say, "I dub thee –". So how would she know? The other two had their name inked into their backs. Did she? She strained her body to see if she could possibly snag a glimpse at her number, assuming she HAD a number. 2 hobbled over to her and chuckled light heartedly. He looked at her back. "There is nothing…Oh, here," he lifted up her hood, one she didn't even know she had. "What is it?" she asked timidly. If she could have blushed with shame, she would have done so.

"Tehn."

She tried to picture it in her mind, but nothing came. "Is it…a number?"

5's face lit up in understanding. "You can't read, can you?"

She wiped around to face him. "What is reading?"

"When did you wake, m'girl?" 2 asked, placing his hand on her shoulder.

She blinked in response, thinking. "This…this morning, I think."

"No, no," interjected 5, "What he means is, when did you wake for the first time? When were you born?"

"That was this morning, too, I think."

The two older stitchpunks exchanged glances. "Why, you're just a baby!" 2 said in utter surprise. "So you can't count?" 5 asked.

"I'm not a baby!" The youngest cried. She pulled free of 2's gentle grasp. "I'm just…new at this. This life." She reached back and pulled her hood over her head in hopes of hiding her shame. She was shrouded in a pinkish red shadow.

"Tehn."

She wouldn't look up; she was too embarrassed.

"Look, Tehn."

She saw 5 kneel from the corner of her eye, smoothing the dirt. She turned her head slightly, peering down at what he was doing. Into the Earth, he etched a line and a circle. Curious, she slowly approached him, leaning over to see the drawing. That was it—just a line and a circle. "W…What is it?"

5 looked up and smiled softly at her. "Your name." He pointed to the line. "One"—and then he pointed to the circle—"Zero. Together, they make Tehn."

"T…Tehn?" She thought hard about it, trying to make the connection.

_OOOH Come ON!_ cried voice 2._ It's painfully obvious. Your name is __**10**__._

"10?"

"That's right," 5 answered. "10."

"Oooooh, I see now," she said. His smile widened.

A sound like metal claws scratching on a chalkboard rang in the distance. Her head popped up immediately, as did, 5's. There was silence for a while, followed by the hasty scuffing of 2's tired feet. "We should go," he said, pulling the younger beings to their feet. 5 pulled out a sharp looking object from the quiver on his back. He nodded to 10, who held a confused and frightened look on her face. "What was that?"

"Some thing bad," he replied as he took off after 2.

10 stood alone, unsure what to do. Where was she going to go? She had no home. She couldn't go back to where she had come from—that was where the roar had come. She pulled her arms to her and shrank down. She was terrified.

_Run, idiot._

_Why are you just standing there? You want it to eat you?_

_Typical. Scared stiff._

_Don't be afraid_, said gentle voice number four, _Look_.

She raised her head to see 5 running back to her with 2 a slight ways off. The burlap being grabbed her arm carefully. "Come on, 10. What are you waiting for? We have to go." He pulled her after him as he took off.

* * *

The building they had eventually stopped in was enormous to 10. She looked up from her position out in front of it, and she couldn't see the top. The door itself was at least a hundred times taller than her. She stood, gaping up at the colossal stone church, feeling rather small and insignificant in comparison.

2 walked by, pausing to admire the massiveness of his home with her for a moment, and then with a wheezy chuckle continued up the stairs. This pulled 10 out of her own daze, and she scrambled to catch up with him and 5. The buttoned stitchpunk waited patiently by the door, a look of worry displayed on his face as he scanned the horizon. Seeing 2 and 10 climb over the final step safely, he sighed heavily and entered the cathedral.

The inside, to 10, seemed even bigger than the outside. She froze when she heard tapping of feet, but giggled to herself when she found that they belonged to her. She leapt from foot to foot, enjoying the click sound her metal feet made on the stone.

They walked to a bucket that rested on the ground and the new stitchpunk was hesitant to enter it. She looked up; it was attached to a rope that seemed to have been dropped from miles above. She wasn't sure she wanted to climb that high. She was startled when 2 patted her back and smiled reassuringly before climbing into the lift, 5 on his tail. The younger brown being turned to see his new friend curling her arms to herself nervously. "What's wrong?"

"I…"she started, ducking her head shyly. She wasn't sure why the height frightened her. She had managed to climb down the side of a mountain only minutes after she awoke—surely she wasn't frightened of the height itself? But the bucket looked old and rusted, and she was not excited about being carried up a great distance in something that looked like it was about to break.

"Come on."

She looked up. 5 was holding his hand out to her. "It'll be alright," he said. "This isn't the scariest thing you'll see, trust me."

Trust me.

10 blinked, then carefully took his hand and climbed in the lift. It jolted to life and began its slow assent. 10 refused to relinquish the older stitchpunks hand the whole ride up.


	2. Entry 1: Intro to my world

Journal entry 1

Ok, so remember how poor 10 can't really read? Therefore, she can't write? Well…she learned. These are her journal entries. They're in first person, opposed to the usual third person limited that the rest of the story takes place in. I'm trying to capture the innocence of 10… I'm not sure if it's working though.

I am not in any way bashing Christians in this. Please do not take offense to anything 10 may say. I assure you, there is no hating of any religion in this fic.

Disclaimer: Don't own 9. Only 10.

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z

Now you try, he had said. 5 was teaching me to write.

My name is 10. I can't forget it. I'm afraid I will. I forgot 5—

Well, not really. It was weird… 5 walked in and said hello. I looked at him and honestly, I couldn't say who he was. His voice was familiar, but I couldn't remember the face. So then he left. I feel kind of bad… is that right? But then some old dude came in and asked me if I remembered 5, and I could! He's brown, with two buttons on his chest and an eye patch…like a pirate! Wait, what is pirate?

Anyway, I can't really read well. But 5 was teaching me. I could sound out words and write some when he left. He said he was going to the watch tower. I asked if I could come and he said I wouldn't like it. It's too high up.

So instead I stayed here. Here is pretty vague, though… I guess if I'm gonna remember today, then I might as well say where I am. It's a beautiful castle like thing… sort of. 2 said it was a cathedral. When humans were still around, they came to places like this to pray to their God. What is God? 2 says God created all man and had ultimate power of all things. I asked if it was his fault I was alive. 2 said that my life wasn't a fault but a gift, which was probably the creepiest thing I had heard all day.

Right now, I'm sitting in a corner in the cathedral. There's this window, but I can't see out of it; partially because it is so high up, but it's also colored in. There's a man in the window, with his arms open wide as if he's welcoming me. Why is he welcoming me? I don't want to go through the window. I asked 2 about it when we had gotten up to that room, but this big guy told him to shut up while some older one started lecturing 2 and 5 about bringing strange people to him without warning him first. I didn't think that was fair. How were we supposed to know that this bear-like creepy thing would follow us in the room?

I later learned that the bear-like creepy thing was 8, who protected the grumpy old man with his life. The grumpy old man was 1, who, coincidently, is the group's leader.

So this book I found… I didn't know what to do with it when I found it. I just knew I had to have it. Something about it screamed, 10 pick me up! Or maybe it was one of the voices that screamed it? Anyway, I didn't know what to do. But I met this guy named 6. He had paper everywhere! So since the book is filled with paper, I figured he would know what to do with it. I went to his little area of 1's room, and asked him what he did with all his paper. And he showed me—all his drawings! They were hideous but beautiful. Like if you ate a rose and then got sick and threw it up, but its petals are still somewhat intact… THAT would be 6's drawings. Or not. I don't know… I've never seen a rose. 5 said the red patch on my side was rosy, and I asked him what that meant and he said like a rose. What is rose? He called it a beautiful red flower. He had only seen them once but then… he never finished. His face seemed sad then. Something must have happened to the rose. Something really bad. I wish I could have saved one for him. But back to 6's drawings. We stood there while he pointed to each one and named it. The Source, The Source, The Source…about five minutes of this and I was bored and asked him if he had drawn anything other than 'The Source'. He replied by backing up against a particularly low hanging drawing of two stitchpunks and grinned sheepishly while saying no. I didn't see who the two were, and didn't particularly care to. I showed him my book and all its paper. He asked for a piece, so I ripped one out for him. He tried to draw on it, but it was too small. He couldn't fit his picture on the page. He gave it to me though, said I could keep it. I still have it in my pouch.

I had managed to unzip my pouch without getting my fingers stuck. But I was too scared to zip it up again. So I left it open. It was kinda convenient, having it open and being able to reach in and grab things or put them back. And my insides didn't fall out! They were actually held in by an extra layer of fabric. I could reach them if I wanted to by lifting up the flap…but I don't want to.

When 2 and 5 came back from the watch tower, I couldn't recognize them again. They had to reintroduce themselves: apparently 5 is "The guy you brutally beat over the head". I remember that like it was yesterday…But it was this morning. 2 said I had bad recognition memory. That means I can remember things but when I see them, I don't know who or what they are. He said some humans had it when they had extreme trauma to the head. I don't remember having extreme trauma to the head… I have only been alive for six hours. I think I would remember what extreme trauma looks like. Or maybe I wouldn't…he also said that some humans lost their recall memory, which is the opposite of recognition memory. Did I lose both, maybe? I don't think so, because I remember 5 but I just don't recognize him, and 2. 2 I don't remember much though… maybe I need to beat him over the head with a stick too?

They fixed my zipper. I'm not sure why, but I felt weird when 5 was making sure the metal ring the zipper handle attached to was closed tight. His face was close to mine, and I didn't like it. But 2 couldn't do it because he wasn't strong enough, and it only lasted a little while. I just never wanted to be that close to anyone's face again. But of course when I wake up from a nap afterwards I find 6 looming over me, only inches from my face. I nearly had a heart attack. Well, if I had a heart. Do I? What is a heart, really? 2 explained it to me, but I didn't get it. How could a squishy thing keep a human alive alone? Every living thing had one. Do I have one? 2 says it beats like 8's echoing footsteps. I feel my chest. I feel something, but not echoing footsteps.

But anyway, 6 wanted to show me his new drawing. I asked him if it was 'The Source', because if it was then I was going back to sleep. It wasn't, though. It was a stitchpunk with a patch on its left side and a zipper on its right. It had a 'P' drawn around its right eye, and a hood. He said it was me, then pinned it on top of the drawing of two stitchpunks. I guess I'll never know who they were now. Then again, I don't really care.

Well, I guess that's it for now. 1 looks like he's going to start yelling again. I hadn't said anything to him since I met him. Maybe that's why he's mad.

This is fun; I think I'll do it again. 5 was great to suggest it.

---10,?


	3. Entry 2: Voices and Writing

Entry 2: Voices and Writing

It seems like they NEVER shut up. There are four of them: One that's sarcastic, one that's arrogant, one that's obnoxious, and then… and odd one—she's sincere. I like her. I think it's a her… can a voice have a gender? I think so… my voice is high pitched, and 2 and 5, even snappy 1, they have deep voices. They're all boys, I think. No… I sure. I'm sure of it. And the others… they're girls too. I don't like to talk about them much. From the moment I woke, I could hear something. It was… a fifth voice… softly singing. I try to hear what she's saying; I figured maybe I could memorize a song from her and sing it to 1. Maybe if someone sang to him, he'd stop being so grouchy. But I can only pick out a few of the words…and I think they would be bad to sing to 1. Words like, 'the howls are sending chills down my spine," and, "welcome to the real world, Jackass!". I told 6 about them, because he was the only one around to listen. Normally he doesn't stop his drawing for anything, but when he heard the words he froze and looked up at me like I had just said the stupidest thing ever. I don't know… maybe I did. He stared at me for a long time like that, then went back to drawing.

But back to the voices. Although most of them are cruel, they're actually really helpful. That's why I can spell so well, and use decent grammar… It's because they're like editing Nazis, screaming in my head as I write. Well, I have to give SOME credit to 5 and 2, because they both help a lot. But their efforts are like dust compared to the boulder sized help the voices give. Sometimes, though, it's a bit annoying. I just want to write my thoughts down, so I can remember them, but I can't even hear my own thoughts! And when they all get riled up, the singing gets louder and I can't stand it. 5 said he found me once, curled up against the wall in my corner, slamming my head against the stone. I don't remember it. I remember seeing him, holding my head so he could keep me from harming myself anymore, telling me it was alright, that it was all going to be ok.

I remember the voices were silent for that moment, even the singing.

They seem to talk more when it's dark. I don't like the dark as it is, but with them telling me I'm pathetic and should just give up trying to fit in with this family, the dark becomes my mortal enemy. They need to stop. I tell them to stop. They never listen, and this keeps on until either I escape or I'm on my knees, holding my head and sobbing madly. I hate the night. I'm all alone then… I can't sleep with 6 because he has awful night terrors sometimes, or else he's thrashing about, and I'm too shy to ask 5 or 2. There's just no way I'm even going to bother asking 1. I considered asking 8, but my sarcastic voice yelled something about rape. What is rape? It must be bad, because I was forbidden from asking him. So I sleep alone. And they fight; oh, how they fight. Sometimes I miss a night because of them. Then 2 gets worried and pulls me aside to ask me if I'm alright, sometimes twenty times a day.

Sometimes I forget that they aren't real. I'll be watching 6 draw, and half listening to them brutally critique his work, and I'll shout, "Shut up, leave him be already, it looks fine!" and not even notice. I only know I do this because 6 started to cry on a particularly bad day for him, and I couldn't figure out why. He told me I yelled at him, but I couldn't remember. I never remember. But I felt horrible about it anyway, especially when 1 walked by and tisked at us. I wish I had had a stick… but then again, I don't want to remember 1 that much.

Even though they don't deserve it, I decided to give them names. I figured names would make it easier to keep track of who's who. I listen to all of them, but not all the time. Each one is only good for certain advice, so acquainting with each one as if they were individual stitchpunks would probably keep me from becoming as loony as 6. Not that I have a problem with him—he's my best friend. But he's nuts. I like whatever little sanity I have.

Voice one: Una

Voice two: Duae

Voice three: Tre

Voice four: Utpote

Voice five: Camena

These names mean something… but I can't tell. While giving them, I said them out loud… and felt each one silence as its name was spoken, until they were all quiet. It's rare for that to happen… it only happens when 2, 5 or 6 pulls me out of the darkness. But once they leave, the talking starts up again. But that time, they were quiet for a long time…like a few days worth. It was like they were respecting the dead or something…

I didn't kill them. I just identified them.

So it was 5's suggestion to use this book as a journal. He explained it to me a bit. He said that I write my thoughts in it, and no one ever had to know what they were because I never had to let anyone read it. He also said that I should date my entries, so that I know when everything had happened when I read over it again. The problem is, I don't know what day it is! And nobody can tell me. 2 couldn't remember; he told me to ask 1 and then come back to him. So I asked 1, but all he said was, "Nusciance, asking questions," which I thought was weird because that was the first time I had ever spoken to him. So I asked 6 instead, but he was too busy humming to himself and drawing to notice. Then 8 came in, so I asked him. He took my book from me and wouldn't give it back until I got so frustrated that I started to cry. I think he felt bad, because he didn't trick me when he handed it back, not like he does when he teases 6. He even smiled back at me when I thanked him. But he didn't know what date it was either. Only 5 had a good sense of time. He answered with only a short pause of nostalgia. He said, for him, it was day 1077. It had been how long he could remember. I asked him what day it was for me. He said it was probably day 24. I feel so young compared to him. But if he's THAT old, then how old is 1? A dinosaur? Wait…what's a dinosaur?

The days seem long, sitting here in the corner. I try to do a little bit each day, but I sit down, open my book and get bored immediately. I'm going to make a goal: Each time something REALLY interesting happens, I'll record it.

Well, that's it for now, I guess. Maybe something interesting will come along soon. I hope so.

---10, Day 24


	4. Chapter 2: Songs

Songs

**Hi, it's me again! No, not 10, sorry. There are two kinds of chapters in this fic: there are ones that are journal entries from 10, written in first person and a bit short, and then there is the actual story, written in third person with an intro section in first person. I think I might have already gone over this…. But just in case anyone is still confused, I'm reiterating it… for my one fan…. (I still love you, Aerith the Evenstar!). I may not be uploading chapters as fast from now on because my three-day weekend is over, but I'll try to keep them somewhat regular.**

**So, the lyrics in 10's head in the last chapter were from The Howling by Within Temptation and Threw it on the Ground by… I don't know, someone from SNL, respectively. The songs mentioned in this chapter are obscure, so I'll just tell you what they are: O Magnum Mysterium and The Bridge by Martin Reyes (he wrote it for my school's color guard show, he's an alumna). I don't think you can find The Bridge but definitely look up O Magnum. It's a beautiful song.**

**Disclaimer: Shane Acker and Tim Burton own all, except 10 and her concepts.**

Explanations Ch. 2: Songs

_The world inside me is in ever turmoil._

_It is a battlefield, in constant combat, with no respite. _

_But one voice is hidden amongst the others, and yet it is forefront._

_The Fifth Voice. The Voice of Song._

It had been a long while since she had seen him. She missed him, but for reasons she couldn't explain. Whenever she did get a chance to see him she couldn't help but smile, and her insides grew warm. The constant fighting in her mind ceased when he spoke to her, decrescendo into a low hum. She felt…. Happy.

But lately, he had been too busy to visit with her; out scavenging, keeping watch for beasts, or succumbing to 1's fury. Many times, he had simply seemed to vanish, sometimes for days, with no one knowing where he had gone off to. She would look for him, in all his favorite places, but she could never find him, not until he returned home.

But she always had 6.

The striped doll was fun company. When he wasn't engrossed in his art, they would take turns making up stories, most of which ended up involving The Source and large monsters, but it was still great fun. 10 often woke up excited, her stomach twisted in anticipation for the adventures she would have with her friend. And 6 was often awake as early as her—sometimes he would spend the whole night up, but even through his drowsiness he would be just as eager as her. She never questioned him why he didn't sleep. She knew why.

They did more than make up adventures together. Practical jokes, the bulk of them being on 1, helped to fill the days also. It had originally been 10's idea: One day in the response of her fitful boredom, she placed a rock underneath the cushion on his throne. She and 6 did all they could to keep from bursting out in laughter as 1 sat down and began to shift uncomfortably in his seat. As 8 had gone over to investigate the seat, poking the lump in the cushion but unsure of how it had got there, the two trouble-makers giggles became almost unbearable, until 1 finally lifted the cushion and held the jagged stone in his hand with a perplexed look covering his face. Their laughter escaped, and they had to run to avoid being caught by an irritated 8. Unfortunately, 1 had known it was them; that night, he had called them over to him and asked them if they liked rocks. When their only response was the uncontrollable cackles, he yelled at them about respect and how they didn't have it. They hung their heads in shame, apologizing for their wrong-doings, then sulking off when they were dismissed. But as soon as they were out of ear shot, they giggled, amused by how absolutely gullible 1 was, and then would part ways for the night.

As much as she loved her friend, she still missed 5. As the days went on, their reading and writing lessons grew fewer, until they eventually ceased. 10 knew she didn't need them anymore, as did 5, but she really… missed him. There was no way else she could explain it. When he was gone, she would wait by a window, having climbed up to the sill, and would stand there for hours, watching, in hopes that she would see his return, or 2's for that matter.

She missed 2 as well. Since she had come to the cathedral, her memory had improved, and she slowly was able to recognize him. Whenever she saw him, she would rush up and wrap her arms around his waist, receiving a surprised, "Oomph!" and then a tender hug. Whenever he went out scourging, he would bring her back something interesting: Once it was a piece of dull pink glass, another time it was a small shard of bone; it would be always something different -- and variety was greatly appreciated when every day was more or less the same. The little green stitchpunk would smile up at him and chirp, "Thanks!" as she stuffed her new treasure into her pouch for safe keeping. While she enjoyed these gifts, and was sincerely grateful for them, what she loved most was seeing 2's safe return.

She didn't understand her attachment to him and 5. When she saw them, she felt safe. Even though she spent most of her time with 6, she never had that feeling with him, at least not to the same extent.

_They saved you, Genius, _said Duae.

It was reasonable, thought 10, but… she wasn't quite sure that was it.

10 never failed to notice how close 2 and 5 were. She knew this closeness, or she thought she did; she and 6 were almost as inseparable as them. They would sit in the watch tower together, build and fix their inventions, go off exploring…even when 5 seemed to disappear, 2 would sometimes vanish with him, only to reappear with his apprentice. Sometimes she would watch them, watch as they created something new and amazing, wishing she could join in but not daring to ask.

* * *

The window was dusty, but she didn't particularly mind. She stood there, watching the boys work working diligently on their latest creation. She watched with something akin to longing, as they joked with each other every so often. She could hear bits and pieces of their conversation from her height; she had climbed down to the third floor for just that reason. She smiled softly, even through her jealousy. How could she not? They were doing what they loved together. She was happy.

"Oh!" she heard 5 say, "Look 2! I think we're done!"

The two stitchpunks stepped back, admiring their fabrication. 10 wasn't quite sure what it was—It looked as if it were meant to be pushed around on its four wheels, although she didn't know what good it would do for 1, who confiscated many of the pair's inventions.

2's chuckle brought her out of her thoughts. "Well done, m'boy. It's certainly magnificent."

…_Magnificent_…

"**O magnum mysterium  
et admirabile sacramentum,  
ut animalia viderent Dominum natum,  
jacentem in præsepio."**

She blinked, searching around as the stream of words echoed around her against the stone walls. This could not be another voice inside her head… It was all too real…

"**Beata virgo, cujus viscera meruerunt  
portare Dominum Christum. Alleluia…."**

She could not find the source of the music. She gulped in air as if she had used up all of what she had… Her eyes widened in realization. The music was coming from her! She could not stop them. They poured out of her, and nothing she could do would stop them; she could not even close her mouth.

"**portare Dominum Christum…."**

The words finally ebbed away, leaving the cathedral ringing in pure beauty of sound. 10 trembled; she had never experienced something so…powerful. She had had no control over the matter. All she could do was yield to the song, let it run its course through her body…

"B-Beautiful…"

The little being jump in surprise, whirling around to see a very bashful looking 6 standing on the floor below her. "6!" She called out, feeling her whole body flush in embarrassment. She couldn't believe he had heard that. "How long have you been standing there?!"

The older being shrank back slightly, looking as if he had not caught 10 singing but naked. "Not long…" He looked up apologetically.

10 leapt down from her post, still slightly shaky. "Did you hear the whole thing?"

6 held eye contact with her for less than a second, then looked away, nodding. "S-sorry… Sorry 10. Didn't know…"

She looked away as well. "Nor did I…"

"Voices?"

"I guess. They had never really controlled my actions before, though."

6's crooked smile grew across his face. "Liked."

The green being's head raised slowly in timid surprise. "W-what?"

"I…l-liked. B-beautiful. Make me…smile." His face was warm with sincerity.

If 10 could have blushed, she would have turned deeper red then the patch on her side. She brought her hands up to cover her face and coyly thanked him. She had never been given such a sweet compliment… she wasn't sure what else she was to do.

"Hey, you two. What are you up to?"

Both their heads popped up and at the sight of 2 and 5 in the lift, their reactions were similar: Both cried out, "5! 2!" while taking off at full speed and throwing themselves at the older pair. 5's rich chuckle and 2's gentle one echoed throughout the room as they hugged the two younger beings. The lift started again with a jolt. 5 offered his hand to 10, but she shook her head. "I don't need it anymore. I'm not scared."

"M'girl, have you lost your fear of heights?"

10 smiled at the grandfatherly stitchpunk. "I was never scared of heights. I was only scared of falling." Everyone chuckled, except for 6, who gripped the shaft of the key that hung around his neck tightly.

Reaching the final floor had been a ride to short, in 10's opinion. 6 had leapt out immediately and had made a crow's flight path to his room, not even bothering to flinch when 8 swung at him. 2 hobbled off, most likely to where he and 5 shared a room. 5 followed him, leaving 10 all alone, bored with nothing to do. She sighed, but it was all empty air.

* * *

It had taken longer than she had thought to muster up the courage to ask 5 to play with her. She crept up to his room, the evening sun just barely reaching her. She pulled the curtain that acted as a door and whispered his name, peeking shyly inside.

2's soft snores were her only answer. Apart from the elder, the room was vacated. The young one frowned. 5 had disappeared again…

She tapped over to 1, who was sitting on his throne with his hand propping up his head, a troubled look displayed on his face. She didn't dare ask him to play with her; not unless she wanted to die. "1?" she asked sweetly. The oldest ignored her, grumbling to himself about how something wouldn't work.

_He won't answer you, _stated Tre. _Get over it._

She took a deep breath and tried again.

1 jumped as he was pulled from his thoughts. "What do you want?" he snapped. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

This puzzled 10. "Busy doing what? You're just sitting there talking to yourself again."

"Humph! It's called thinking, _child_," he added extra emphasis to the last word, spat it like it were a curse, "A great leader must think if he is to succeed."

"Where's 5?"

1 glared at the girl. 10 could almost feel his seething anger radiate from him. "Where he always is," he grumbled, and 10 knew she was going to get nothing more out of him.

8 was nowhere in sight, and she didn't want to wake 2. That left 6 to ask. She scuttled over to his little area, but saw he was engrossed in his work and didn't want to bother him. She sighed, feeling like she was out of options.

"10?"

She looked up. 6 had frozen, and sat up from his hunched position to look at her. He smiled. "Hi. Bored?"

"Ya..."

6 stood, his legs shaking from lack of use, and he trotted over to his green friend. "What do?"

"I'm looking for 5," she replied, frowning sadly, "He disappeared again, though. No one knows where he went..."

"6 knows."

She looked up quickly. "Really?"

He nodded, the yarn on top of his head flopping comically. "Not gone. Up," he said, pointing to the ceiling.

10 looked up, but all she could see was the ceiling and a few straggler drawings that had somehow managed to be pinned up so high. Slowly she returned her gaze to her puzzling friend. "...Up?"

"Show you!" he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her out of his room. She stumbled in surprise, but allowed him to lead her. They traveled over to the lift, where 6 finally let her go and opened the door. She climbed in and he followed, then began to turn the crank. The lift ascended.

It seemed to climb forever. A few times, 10 grew the courage to peer over the edge, only to fall backward in dizziness. The first few times 6 caught her, a worried look on his face, but after that he just let her fall; She would catch herself before she hit her head. But the higher the lift climbed, the brighter the lift's shaft was... Sun leaked through holes on a wooden extension of the cathedral that had obviously not been there before the stitchpunks had arrived. The lift came to a gentle stop, and the setting sun nearly blinded the pair of young beings as the stepped out into the open room. The floor was made of wood, but was fortified with stone; some papers covered the stone walls, and an easel stood next to the lift's opening, a paper with drawings and symbols written all over it. 10 leaned over to it and read it. It was a map of what she presumed to be the conquered part of their world.

6 tugged at her arm and pointed. In the center of the room was a large contraption, a brass tube pointing out into the open world. Sitting in front of it was a slumped over burlap figure with a large and slightly faded number 5 inked into its back. She smiled at 6, who gave her a dainty wave as he turned to head back down the lift, and then she snuck up silently behind the elder stitchpunk.

"AH!" cried out 5 in surprise as the young green stitchpunk wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him back into a tight hug. He spun around, bewildered, but sighed in relief when he saw that his attacker was only his friend. "Don't DO that, 10!"

10 giggled. 5's face melted from a stern look to slight embarrassed amusement as his heavy breaths became chuckles. He smiled down at her. "Really. You scared me half to death."

10's amusement fell as it was replaced by curiosity. "What's that?"

"What's what?"

"Death?"

5's face fell as well, becoming somber as he looked away, rubbing the back of his head and searching his mind for the best way to explain it to her. "Death is... well...." he sighed."Death is many things. It's when you get to be so tired that you fall asleep forever. It's also when you pass out from extreme trauma to your body." He looked up at her sadly. "However it happens, you fall asleep, but you don't wake up."

10 wasn't sure what made 5 so sad. She could see fear and pain in his one optic, and she felt her stomach churn a bit in response. She didn't want him to be upset. She smiled at him sweetly. "Ok." Her head whipped around to view the scene; she didn't enjoy this new word "death" and no longer wished to push the subject. "Whoa…" she said in awe.

The world she had ventured out of the darkness…HER world… she could never describe. Her mind went blank, with the exception of the constant bickering inside, but no thoughts of her own escaped. She felt a pain in her chest; her hand lifted to cover it, as if to extinguish the fire of shock that had grown in her inside. So THIS was her world… from the ground, it looked like nothing, just a like a walk in a junkyard.

…But from above…

For miles and miles was a barren wasteland. There was not a sign of true color… it was empty and hollow. Of course, there were many things out there: Piles of rubbish and debris, broken buildings, cliffs and valleys, even an old factory looming in the distance. But there was no LIFE. 10 felt her chest cavity ache. She didn't understand this feeling… she was as hollow as the land.

"It's so…" she started, not sure what word best fit.

"Empty?"

She turned to her burlap elder, and nodded. He smiled. "We call it 'The Emptiness'." He patted his brass contraption gingerly. "Well… at least 2 and I do."

10 cocked her head at the odd object. "What IS that thing?" She asked, her voice saturated with puzzlement.

"What, this?" asked 5, pointing down at the gleaming metal; 10 nodded. "It's a telescope. It makes things that are far off look closer." He beckoned her to him. "Come see."

She hurried to him, and he held the skinny end out to her. She took it, leaned down and looked through the peep hole. "Oh!" she cried in surprise as she could now see the world below so much clearer.

"See?"

"Ya! It's so clear now." She looked up and smiled at him.

_Do it,_ said Tre.

_Do what?_

_You KNOW what, nit-wit, _Una growled.

10 was confused._ Do WHAT?_

She turned back to 'The Emptiness' peering over its vast barren terrain through the telescope. She spotted a large dark object stretch over a deep ravine in the distance. She pulled away, her face scrunched up in confusion. "5, what's that thing?"

"What's what thing?"

"That." She gave him the telescope's end and moved off the platform. He peered through the brass contraption. "Oh…That's a bridge, 10. It's supposed to help people cross over large gaps in the road. Humans used to…."

…._Bridge, huh?_

"**I saw the Bridge.**

**The bridge is long…"**

5 walked up to his dazed friend. "10?"

"**They built it high, and they built it strong.**

**Strong enough to hold the weight of time—**

**But long enough to leave some of us behind**

**And every one of us will have to face that day…."**

She turned desperately to her friend. She could not stop the words from flowing past her lips…

"**Will you cross the bridge, or will you fade away?"**

"What?" asked a freclempt 5, his one optic wide in perplexity.

10 covered her mouth, but the words were now only muffled.

"**And every one of us that ever came in play**

**Will have to cross the bridge or fade away…."**

The compulsive words stopped, and 10 uncovered her mouth. Seeing 5's look of absolute bafflement, she opened her mouth to explain.

But the song continued:

"**Standing on the bridge, looking at the waves,**

**Seen so many jump; now the sea won't save…"**

5's face went turned to horror in a matter of seconds; 10 shook her head violently as the lyrics continued to pour out of her, hoping he would understand that these words weren't hers…

"**On a distant beach, the song can die,**

**On a bitter wind, or on a cruel tide…"**

5 backed away from her, his head shaking in disbelief, his eye holding a slight look of fear as he repeated his original query, "What?"

The small green stitchpunk felt fraught; she didn't want him to leave her. She was scared. She ran towards him and grabbed the button sewn onto his chest, holding tightly as if it were her last life line. He almost stumbled backwards in shock.

Her eyes screamed, _please don't leave me. Help me, 5…_

"**And every one of us will have to face that day—**

**Will you cross the bridge, or will you fade away?**

**And every one of us that ever came in play**

**Will have to cross the bridge or fade away…."**

The last note of her song echoed for a beat against the stone walls of the lift shaft. Both frightened beings panted, unsure what curse had overcome the younger of the two. 10 was shaking, no longer thinking her compulsion was fun or interesting. The words… they had bothered her… but she couldn't tell why…

"10?"

She looked up; his burlap arms were carefully wrapped around her, a worried look in his optic. "Are you alright?" he asked. She shook her head and buried her face into his chest. "No," came her muffled answer, "This happened earlier today, but with a nicer song. I don't like this one…" She squeezed her grip around his button. "I'm scared, 5…"

He sighed awkwardly and nodded. "I was too. I'm… um... I'm sorry 10." He hesitated, then tenderly tightened his hold on her. "I… didn't quite, uh, understand what was going on, and, um...well, I got scared. I'm sorry I tried to leave you."

10 trembled; her light, dry sobs made her feel weak. She never wanted to be on that bridge, to see that bridge, again. She wasn't afraid because she hadn't been able to control herself and stop the singing, she had been afraid of what she said, what she had asked 5. She herself wasn't sure…

When it came time, would SHE cross the bridge?

**WHOOT! 3,513 words to completion! Well of chapter 2, anyway…**

**I know this is a little confusing. I won't say that 10 is just another Mary-sue character, because although she has a lot of my qualities she's not. But I based her reaction to The Bridge off of my own; the first time I heard it I burst into tears. LITERALLY. And it wasn't because of how beautiful it was, even though it was, but it was because I was so moved by the lyrics. But it has a bit of foreshadowing, doesn't it? ((SPOILER ALERT!!! : 3))**

**In case you're wondering, here are the lyrics to O Magnum Mysterium (in English):**

O great mystery and wonderful sacrament

that animals see the infant Lord

lying in a manger.

Blessed is the virgin whose womb

was worthy to bear the Lord Christ.

Alleluia.

**Thanks for following!**

**Special thanks to Chessant for being my beta. Your help makes my writing shine!**


	5. Entry 3: No Control

Entry 3: No Control

I don't think I'll ever understand it. Why do these voices have such power over me?

It had happened, just the other day. The first time. I was watching 5 and 2 build something (which I later found out from 2 was called a wheelbarrow, and is used to move things) and all of a sudden, there was this sound. It was very pretty, but I couldn't figure out where it was coming from. It was me! And the words wouldn't stop! They were words I had never heard before, words I didn't even understand. Nothing would stop them from coming out; I tried to close my mouth, I tried to think about something else… Nothing worked! It was a bit frightening…

The scariest part was that I had no control over them. I didn't even realize that they were coming out until I heard them; I probably wouldn't have realized it if it weren't for the stone walls of the cathedral.

6 had said it was beautiful. It made me feel funny, the compliment. I had thought it was beautiful too, but it seemed weird, coming from him. The way he said it was as if my voice had awakened something inside of him—maybe it had. Like I was the man in the window above 1's throne, like my voice just beckoned 6 to keep believing. But believing in what? Me?

5 and 2 saved me then, so I forgot about it. For a while…

5 disappeared again today. Well, sort of. 6 knew where he was. It turns out, when 5 disappears, he usually goes up to the watch tower. It's his favorite place to be. I liked it too—I went up for the first time today! It was a bit of a scary ride, but 6 and I reached it safely (6 had shown me where to go, because I was lost. I've been here for what seems like ever, but I still don't know my way around!). From up in the tower, I could see just about everything! Not that there's much to see, though. Just dirt, rocks and broken stuff. It looks so much more interesting from close up. But from up in the tower, I wanted to cry. What is cry? I'm not entirely sure what it feels like. I told 5 how I felt when I saw "The Emptiness" (that's what our world's called, apparently), and he said that the feeling was sorrow and that I wanted to cry. He didn't explain what cry was, though. His smile was so weak and fake that I didn't want to push him to tell me either. Maybe 'cry' is like 'death'. It's a bad thing, death is: you fall asleep and don't wake up. That's what 5 said. I don't know what's so bad about sleeping forever, though. I like sleeping. Sleeping = dreaming, and dreaming is fun. Sometimes it's scary, but it's normally fun, like 6 and my adventures. Dreams are just more adventures. But he said sometimes death comes from trauma, and trauma is definitely bad. So maybe this 'death' thing is not so nice after all.

I saw a bridge today. 5 was explaining what it was, and the song came back! It was different this time…and it made me say horrible things. I asked 5 if he was going to fade away. Something about it frightened me, and him. Does fade away mean death? I don't know. Sound and light fade away, so do they die? But were they alive? How would I know? I don't think 5 understood me. He tried to run away. I stopped him, though. I didn't understand what was happening, but it made me scared. I didn't want to be alone. It was like being in the dark, except only one voice can be heard, and it's mine. But I have no control. It seems that I rarely ever have control, when I think about it…

--10, Day 47


	6. Chapter 3: Run

**Run**

**Whoot! Chapter 4! Or erm...techniquely 5, but whatever. SO I now have a facebook, in case you haven't checked my profile, so if you want to check out my pictures (I have some of 10!) or just friend me, then search for me. I'm just Lake Rodary. I have some other character pictures, and I'll be posting progress updates on my fics, so if you just want a quick update, friend me.**

**The next couple of chapters should give way to A LOT of information about 10. I did a meme for 9 OCs, and once chapter 5 is up, I'll post it on my profile. I don't want to give away any information quite yet... (BWAHAHAHAHA!!! eh-hem...) **

**This chapter, I'm listening to Welcome Home (by, whom else, Coheed and Cambria). I thought it would fit.**

**Disclaimer: Really? I need to go over this? I think you guys get that I'm not Shane Acker or Tim Burton. **

The wind blew right through her. It was a bit chilly, and she shivered, receiving a poorly hidden chuckle from 5. She flashed a glare at him, which melted into an embarrassed pout.

"Oh, don't be that way, 10. It's cute."

"How do YOU stay warm?"

5 patted his stomach area. "I have enough fluff to insulate me."

10 cocked her head a bit, then giggled when she finally registered what he was saying. "You're calling yourself fat?"

5 chuckled in return. "Are you denying it?" he asked.

"Nope!" She ran ahead, gracefully skipping over stones, smirking to herself. She loved teasing 5; it was almost as much fun as tormenting 1. She heard him call behind her to not venture to far alone, and she answered back a quick, "'K!" before bolting off into the wasteland.

It had been quite a while since 10 had been outside. Since she had joined the family in the cathedral, she had remained inside, unsure if she wanted to venture out in such a perilous world. But she had acquired so many amazing gifts from 2, and wanted to bring him back something for a change. So she begged 5 to take her exploring with him. He had to consult 2, but after a long time, he finally agreed.

The ground seemed to fly beneath her feet. She never knew she was so swift, and found herself enjoying the feel of the Earth rushing away below her. It was on odd sensation for her. It was a free one, as if everything that had ever weighed her down, all her worries and problems had just flown off her shoulders. She could breathe again. She came to a stop before a large rocky cliff side. The little stitchpunk recognized this place… she racked her brain for the location, but couldn't recall where she was. She looked up. The cliff wasn't very steep, and she began to wonder how hard it would be to scale it. She turned around; behind her was a large rock, at least twice her size. She took a running start, then launched herself up to it, catching the edge with her fingers. She hoisted herself up, struggling a bit at first but eventually gained enough strength to pull herself to the top. She turned back to the cliff. There was a platform a bit above her—if she could jump and grab the edge, she would be able to climb up. From there, 10 saw she could simply hike up.

She backed up, and nearly stumbled over the top of the rock. She regained her balance, and then quickly sprinted forward, pouncing almost cat like at the cliff. Even though she caught the edge, her face and torso slammed into the stone, leaving a slight pain around her optics. She winced but held on tightly.

* * *

Standing at the top of the cliff was a bit like standing in the watch tower. She scanned the horizon. The earth below her looked just as barren as it had from up in the watch tower. Empty... much as 10's chest cavity felt as she stared out across the horizon. She had a feeling that the world hadn't always been that way; she didn't know how, but something told her that this planet had once been lively. Like the rose... the rose 5 had told her about. _ It must have been a beautiful place_, she thought with a sad sigh.

The small green stitchpunk turned around and froze. She suddenly recognized where she was. A large stone, a mountain compared to her, stood proudly in the red-stained dirt. She turned back to the cliff side. It seemed different, but she was sure she knew where she was.

This had been the place she had first woken.

10 walked about cautiously. The dust at her feet was rusty; in the surrounding area, it was just grey, but a large puddle of the red colored earth engulfed the area beneath her feet. It was something she hadn't noticed this the first time she had woken; 10 wondered if it had always been there as she walked around the enormous rock.

Her foot caught something, and she nearly collapsed on top of what looked like an enormous sheet of paper, much like the ones from her journal. She pulled her foot out of it, and with some effort lifted it up to lean against the rock. More of the page was falling out of it. 10 pulled on a corner of the page, and it unfolded entirely, revealing the contents scrawled on its front. The paper slipped, and 10 rushed to catch it, pushing it up back into position against the rock. She tried to keep it flat, but it kept folding forward, and the young stitchpunk was not tall enough to keep the top of the page up. She jumped, hoping to be able to smooth it back, but it only flopped forward again.

"There you are!"

10 nearly jumped out of her fabric; she whipped around to see 5 pull himself over the edge of the cliff. A sigh was released from her as she covered her chest with a black hand. "Don't scare me like that 5!"

5 frowned down at her and crossed his arms. "Scare you? You had me scared witless! Didn't I tell you not to run off too far?" 10 averted her gaze to the ground. She knew he was right: he HAD told her not to run off too far from him. _To be honest_, she thought with a pain of guilt, _I had forgotten about him completely_. She heard him sigh, and she peeked at him. "10," he said patiently, "Do you realize how dangerous The Emptiness is? I just don't want anything horrible to happen to you. When I ask you to stay in my sight, I mean it to be as a protective measure, not a punishment."

10 nodded. "I know. I'm sorry 5. I was just having so much fun, is all. I didn't mean to make you worry."

"It's alright. Just please don't do it again, alright?"

_This guy's such a sucker,_ commented Tre, _He should be easy to manipulate. Even easier than you._

_Shut up, _10 thought in irritation. _Don't talk about him that way._

Her only response was a seductive chuckle before Tre's voice slipped away into the white noise buzzing in her head.

5 strode over to her, intrigued by the paper she was holding against the rock. "What did you find?" he asked. 10 pulled the page down and held it to the ground; it laid flat in the dust, but had to be held down to avoid the wind blowing it away. "I don't know," she said, her prior irritation surfacing in her voice. She received a weird look from 5, which in turn received another amused chuckle from Tre. 10 ignored both reactions, and instead studied the markings scratched into the paper. "It's in strange writing… I can't seem to make out what the words say."

The older brown stitchpunk stood opposite to his green junior, studying the page upside down. He picked it up, and flipped it right-side up. "Oh! That makes more sense!"

"What does?"

5 smiled humorously down at the younger stitchpunk. "It's in Latin!"

10's brow scrunched up in confusion. "No, I think it's on a piece of paper, 5."

_Latin is a language, dear. You should probably stop being so foolish around him, he might catch on._

_Tre, shut the hell up, PLEASE. _10 frowned. What was she talking about? He might catch on… to _what_?

_Stop being a dumbass, _growled Duae in annoyance, _You can't hide it._

_Hide WHAT?! _

_Hey guys, don't worry about it, _said Una. _He won't catch on. If she's this oblivious, then he's at least twenty times as stupid as her, so that makes him about as smart as that rock. Something tells me he'll never catch on._

10's frown deepen. She felt lost, and none of her voices seemed willing to simply come out and say what she was supposed to be hiding, or what 5 might catch onto.

"—guage."

10 snapped back to reality, blinking her optics a bit. "Sorry?"

"Latin is a language."

10 blinked some more, trying to connected what he said with a reference. The paper standing in front of her, moved to the side a bit, revealing a puzzled look on 5's face. "Are you alright, 10?"

"What?" she said, before quickly adding, "oh, ya ya, I'm fine. Sorry, just feeling a little spacey." She scratched the back of her head. "So, um, what does it say?"

"What? Oh!"

5 turned his attention back to the paper scanning it quickly. "EGO sum rumex dimitto vos per nusquam laboro per. EGO no vos opusculus , tamen EGO is dum occasus sursum castra. EGO sum non certus si vos mos umquam adepto is tabellae , tamen in theca vos operor , Volo vos scio vestri absentis. Gramps mihi ut quicumque superstes huic universitas est pupa. Illic es tot questions, adeo vacuus refero. Tamen meus vicis est sursum. EGO superstes huic universitas , tamen vos can. EGO postulo vos ut exsisto meus psychologist. Perceptum ut ultum super is universitas , super ceterus pupa , quod tendo ut instar sicco quare is horrendus bellum had evulsum. Per vestri lacuna , vos can succurro refero vita quod intelligendo. Commodo , 10. Vos es nostrum tantum es 10: interpretor nos."

10 frowned again. "What does that mean?"

5 sighed as he placed the page down. "I don't know. I can only read Latin; I can't translate it."

10 laughed. "How could you know how to read in a language, but not understand what it says?"

"I don't know, I never—" 5 looked up at her, and his sentence was cut off. His face began to morph into a look of pure horror, his optic growing wide in fear. He stumbled backwards, shrinking down, his mouth gaping. 10's brow furrowed. "What's the mat—" she started. A shadow had suddenly blocked out what little light there was above her, stretching out to touch the petrified stitchpunk in front of her. 10 froze, and knew way better than to look behind her.

"10," she heard 5 choke out, "Run."

She hadn't needed to be told twice. 10 bolted from where she stood, only just in time to avoid a colossal metallic paw as it crashed into the ground, spraying dust in all directions. The impact knocked the little stitchpunk into her friend, and both of them went tumbling down the cliff, landing haphazardly at the bottom. 10 pushed herself up, but her arms buckled beneath her. She almost hit the ground when 5 pulled her onto his shoulder and helped her to her feet. She swayed a bit but quickly regained her balance, and took the moment to look back at the cliff. A beast, what looked to 10 to be nothing more than the skeleton of a four legged carnivore, was gracefully pouncing down the side of the rocky wall. Its body was a grey metal frame, and it sported a white bone like skull for a head. Its mechanical eyes were trained on the two small beings below it.

"What is that—"

"Just run!" 5 grabbed 10's arm and dragged her away just as the beast landed heavily on the spot where they had stood. 10 had to find the strength in her legs, but once she did, she took off, pulling her elder behind her. 5 was running as fast as he could, but his speed couldn't compare to 10's. He fell behind. 10 turned quickly on her heels as soon as his hand left hers, but he yelled to her, "Keep going! I'm right behind you!" She paused only a moment, but took off again quickly.

_What are you doing, moron?!_

_Way to go. Just leave him behind. THAT"LL go over well with him… if he lives._

_Honestly, dear, that's no way to show your feelings. You should know better than that._

"Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!" 10 cried. "ALL OF YOU! JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Her legs were beginning to burn. She turned over her shoulder to see if 5 was behind her. She skidded to a halt.

He wasn't.

10 ran back a few paces, and looked down the hill she had just run over. Her body suddenly felt cold. At the bottom was 5, lying on his stomach, struggling. His foot was caught in a wire that had been half uncover from the dirt, and he was flailing about, trying to free himself. Behind him, the beast was closing in. "5!" she cried out. He turned over his shoulder, and panic over took him; his flailing became more hasty.

10 ran. She ran faster than she thought she ever could. But she ran in the opposite direction that she was supposed to. In only a few seconds time, she had closed the space between her and 5.

"10, Get out of here!" He cried, the terror now even thicker in his voice. "Run! Get a—AHHH!"

The beast now stood behind him, it's head leaning down to scoop him up in its massive jowls. 5 cried out, his optic dilated in pure horror. 10 saw this, and quickly unzipped her pouch to retrieve her journal. Holding the spine out, She leapt at the beast, and slammed its head. But even with her momentum giving her power, the blow was only strong enough to turn the beast's head away from 5, who yelped as the jaws snapped shut dangerously close to his body. The beast turned to his new prey, and before 10 even hit the ground she was snatched up in the great metallic maw. She felt cold iron pierce through her back and stomach. The monster shook its head violently. 10 could feel every fiber tear as the fangs raked through her. She screamed; the pain was the most intense sensation she had ever felt. She pushed down on the beast's lower jaw, as if to try to pry it open. The beast stopped shaking and pressed down harder. There was a loud crack, and 10's body bent unnaturally in the middle. Her screams rang out in the empty land as pain shot through every strand of thread in her being. She began to feel dizzy as the monster initiated another round of tremors, and her vision slowly began failing her.

As if by the grace of some omnipotent being, the monster suddenly released 10 mid shake with a shriek, and the little stitchpunk felt weightless. She couldn't see, but she knew she was flying. Her flight was soon interrupted with a crash landing, her small frame colliding with the rock-strewn earth with a fatal force. The wind had been knocked clean out of her, and she struggled to gain it back. But the air went right through her; as she breathed in, the air went through her mouth and out the gaping holes in her back and gut. With each breath, she lost more and more acuity.

She heard the beast shriek again, farther away and much quieter this time, which was followed by what she vaguely thought to be here name. She tried to open her eyes, but they wouldn't comply—or they already were open but no visual stimuli was reaching them. 10 wasn't sure; here thoughts were muddled, and she could barely make out the sound of pounding footsteps rushing toward her.

"10!" she heard a voice cry. She recognized this voice… but who was it?

Something collapsed right beside her, the gravel shifting loudly. Her chest felt as if a dead weight was sitting upon it. "10! 10 speak to me, please!" 5…she recognized his voice, and attempted to turn toward him. She tried to speak, but all that came from her was a moan.

"…worry…I won't….die…."

_What?_

10 could barely hear what he was saying. She distantly felt something under her back, and then suddenly the ground beneath her was gone. Her head lulled to the side and rested on something soft; she could hear gears ticking rapidly, and she assumed that it was 5 who held her.

"…home….be…"

10 took a violent gasp for air. It then became slightly easier for her to breath, but her head still felt light. She was moving now, gentle tremors caused by racing feet beating in over the ground. She heard the crunching gravel below her move farther and farther away, until the distance was so great that she was plunged into silence.

**Hooray! Another completed chapter! This was a lot shorter than I had anticpated. I'm sure the next chapter will make up for it, though.**


	7. Chapter 4: Dreams

Dreams

**Oh No! Poor 10. Hope she's ok… Wait, I control her fate. I say she deserves to live, no? **

**Disclaimer: I still don't own 9. Pour qua…**

_You told me 'run away'._

_You said that here I can't stay._

_You told me 'run from this pack,_

_And don't ever look back'._

_And you know, if I could,_

_Then I swear that I would,_

_I'd come back for you…_

_But you said 'run away'._

_You said that here I can't stay._

_You told me 'run from this pack,_

_And don't you dare look back'._

_But if you knew me well_

_You'd know that I'd go through hell_

_To find you…_

…_To find you…_

The sounds of explosions and cries echoed through the fog all around her. 10 was scared, no... terrified. She could hear voices, but they didn't belong to her, or the five that normally tormented her. They were outside. She was running, fast as she could; after all, that WAS what 5 had told her to do. She turned back to see a building collapse to the arm of a giant black monster. Her heart skipped a beat and her breath hitched as she tried to scream. She quickly ran to hide behind a wall, her back pressed flat against the stone.

Her chest rose and fell heavily. She felt sick, and water leaked from her eye.

Wait...

She leaned over in exhaustion, trying to catch her breath- a movement that was completely against her will. She saw long legs, clothed in some sort of dark blue material, and instead of black steel joints for hands, she had a palish tone of skin. She counted her fingers. There were five on each hand.

"What's happening?" She whispered between gasps.

The sound of another building crumbling into stone frightened her out of her hiding place. She tore across the street, stumbling over cinder blocks and pipes. The water streamed down her face; her feet carried her to a place she didn't know. A large house, somehow still intact in a world a debris. She pounded on the wooden door with both fists, screaming at the top of her lungs. "HELP! PLEASE HELP ME!" She turned back to look over her shoulder. The black beasts were closing in, now bigger than ever. Her body shook with horrible sobs as she turned back to the door, slamming her fist weakly on it. "Please..."she pleading, "HELP!"

She fell forward. Warm arms wrapped around her and dragged her through the door into the dark. The heavy wood was swung shut, shrouding her in an abyss.

She trembled, and through her fear she turned her head away from her captor and became sick on the floor. A large hand rubbed her back soothingly. She cried hysterically, unsure as to why she was so sad, why she hurt so much. _What were those things? What happened to my body? What was this strange thing in my chest? This liquid running from my eyes, or this vile substance coming from me?_ She shook violently as another wave of illness overtook her. _Please_, she thought, _make it stop..._

"Annabelle, answer me!"

_Who the hell is Annabelle?_ 10 coughed, and choked out, "Huh?" Her throat stung; was this fire coming from her? Liquid fire? Why did it have to taste so awful?

"Anna, dear, what happened?" There was a soft click, and a small light turned on, illuminating the room slightly. An old, graying man stood over her, his face saturated with worry and knowing.

10 didn't know what he meant. _What had happened?_ She wanted to know too.

But her shaking grew, and her sobs became wails. She squeezed her eyes shut. The fear grew inside 10 as she was plummeted into greater darkness. The anticipated the torture that normally followed the gloom... But her head remain silent. Only colors and images flooded her mind.

"It killed them!" she cried, "It killed them, they're dead, they're dead..." She broke down crying again. _What killed them? And who is 'them'? _

"Ohhh, dear," the elder man shushed her, pulling her into his lap as he sat down on the floor next to her. She gripped his shirt, sobbing madly into his chest. A quiet beating came from it, a soothing thumping, like footsteps of family walking down the empty halls of the cathedral. Her crying was calmed to nothing more than hiccups...

"Anna," the elder said to her, pulling on his lab coat. His face looked very solemn. "I am doing something very important. I need you to not get in the way."

"I won't, Sir. I promise." 10 had become accustomed to being called 'Anna'. She wasn't sure why he was calling her that, but she felt that she shouldn't argue. It wasn't like she could have, even if she wanted to. She had very little control over her actions, if any at all. "May I ask what it is you're doing?"

He sighed, pausing in front of the staircase. He turned slowly to study her with smoky grey eyes before beckoning her to follow. She hurried after him. The climb was much shorter than it would have been if 10 had had her old body. At the top of the stairs, the elder unlocked a door. Inside was a vast room; a desk stood parallel to the door that 10 stood in, a mysterious contraption sitting on it. Something about it gave 10 an odd feeling in her stomach. The elder walked over to the desk solemnly and began shuffling through papers. 10 scurried over to him looking over his shoulder to see what these documents were. A chill ran down her spine as the man, having found what he was looking for, placed the pages down with a flop.

A picture of 1 stared back at her.

"What is this?" she asked, picking up the blueprint curiously. 10 knew exactly who this was... why had she asked that?

The man was rummaging through a wooden cabinet, pulling out various objects: material, buttons, sewing needles, screwdrivers, pieces of metal. He turned back to her, his arms full of what seemed to 10 to be junk. She laid the page down and hurried over to him to help. She took some of the material from him, and they both walked over to the desk. His arms being freed, he pulled 1's blueprint over to him and stared at it almost forlornly for a while. Safe for the explosions outside, the room echoed with silence. 10 wasn't sure if he'd answer her; finally, he peeled his eyes away from the sheet. "This is the plans to the new beginning," she said, his voice cracking.

_What, 1?_ 10 wanted to laugh. 1 was a sad example of 'a new beginning'; a more proper position for him would be 'World's Greatest Asshole'.

"It looks like a doll," she said.

"Sadly, once this war nears its end, dolls will be the only thing fit to survive..."

1's lifeless body stared up at her. She knew she should have felt uneasy, but she only felt cynical. "Are you sure this will work, Sir?"

"Most positive, dear," he replied, taking the limp doll's body from her hands. He hung it on part of the contraption, in between a large golden bell and a strange looking pin that was held directly parallel to the center of the bell. "Stand back, Anna dear," he said, then turned and added, "You might want to look away if your stomach is weak."

10 wanted to see, but she turned away as she was told. She could hear the sound of an electrical current running through something, and the wall she was facing flashed with an eerie green light. She shuddered.

When she turned back to see the elder slummed in his chair, looking very pale. The odd pin was sitting in a holder in the contraption, glowing slightly. 1 hung by his arm in the bell, swaying a bit.

The elder weakly peered up at 10, panting as if he had done something extraneous. She didn't know what had happened, but she had an idea. Out of the corner of her eye, 10 saw movement in the bell. Both she and the elder wiped around to see 1 slowing come to life, his optics blinking to see in the shadows, his body trying to wiggle free of its noose. The elder sat up, laughing as he reached to untie the squirming doll. "It worked! Oh ho ho, see that, Anna? It worked!" 10's face scrunched up. _Had there ever been a doubt?_ she wondered.

1's face was that of pure terror as he watched the elder's comparatively massive hand wrap around him.

"Ahhh!" he cried, flailing madly. The elder untied him and placed him gently on his feet atop the desk. 1 backed away, shrinking down into an upright fetal position.

He seemed weird, recoiling cowardly from the two humans, his optics like wide trapezoids; it was so unlike the 1 that 10 knew. She leaned forward and poked him roughly in the stomach. He swatted at her hand and recoiled. "Stop that, monster!" he shouted, trying to make himself look bigger.

10 crossed her arms as she stood straight. "I think I liked you better when you were a lifeless toy," she said.

He blinked up at 10. He looked weird to her; not as she had known him. He blinked up at her with two optics.

_What had happened to his other eye?_ she wondered.

He hadn't squirmed like the others. Even gentle 2, who normally was rather trusting, had wiggled about in the toymaker's hands as he was untied. And the twins... 10 wished she could smile, but her body didn't allow it. The twins would NEVER allow anyone to touch them, even after they were awakened. They had to be released the quickest- from the moment they woke, they were scurrying about, getting into everything. It had taken every ounce of the toymaker's and her energy and concentration to catch them (she had to trap 4 against a wall and scoop him up in a glass jar). The chase had exhausted her elder; once they were released, he went into his room and didn't return until the next morning.

10 never quite understood what they were doing. Hadn't 1, 2, and 5 been alive already? She was beginning to wonder where she was, if she was in the past or present, and what she was.

She wanted to ask 5. She wanted to know what was going on. But her body didn't seem to care. She had no control over what she did or said; although, that didn't seem like anything new. She did notice, however, that her mind wasn't tormented. There were no voices! Even with no control, she preferred this body any day; as long as she didn't have to fear being alone or the dark anymore, she was satisfied.

It was a sad day for her when they released 5. He had stayed the longest: at least a week after the day he woke up. She had found a personal sense of comfort in his presence, and her new body had seemed to grow attached to him as well. But who couldn't? He was sweet and honest. He had stayed to help with making 6, for the elder had grown rather weak with the creation of the first five stitchpunks. 10 watched him as he sewed the stitching of what would soon be a new friend, a look of slight sadness on his face. He knew he had to leave, and may never meet this new being that he was creating.

When they finally did release him, 10 had felt tears streak her cheeks. She didn't want him to leave, not any more than he did. He leapt out the door and down the steps, looking back solemnly. She bit her lip as she watched him continue on until his number disappeared in the dust. Before it vanished forever, one final tear rolled down her cheek as she whispered, "Good bye…"

He was still only half finished when 5 left. His face was empty, and his chest was gaping open like the mouth of an empty cave, exposing his inner circuitry. The elder was sleeping; He had been doing that more often than usual, whenever he wasn't creating the stitchpunks. 10 paced the room, bored and lonely. She paused to look at the unfinished 6 doll. Finish him! She wanted to scream, force her body to complete her friend. But she stood there staring at him for a bit, until she walked over to the table, picked up the incomplete stripped artist and passed him from hand to hand, observing him. She held him in her open palm; his body laid limp, gaping open at her. She sat down, pulling the little desk lamp closer to her, and held 6's carcass beneath the light. This was the cleanest 10 had ever seen him… Although, to be fair, if SHE had spent all her time dipping her hand in ink, she would have been rather messy looking too.

She grabbed two optical lenses and held them over the eye socket. She had watched the toymaker attach eyes to brain chips before—she herself had never even tried. The extent of her assistance had been left to sewing and checking to see if joints would bend properly. She placed the lenses down; perhaps she would wait to do that later.

She poked around his inner workings. There were many gears, nuts, bolts and screws, but she wasn't sure what they were for. So this is what my insides are like? She wondered as she held the chest cavity open wider and poked around lower. Her finger caught an exceptionally sharp screw and she quickly withdrew her hand from within him. A hot red liquid dribbled down her finger. _What is this? _she pondered, but wasn't given the chance to observe it. She immediate stuck her finger in her mouth as she turned away, searching for something while softly placing the doll's body down. _Ugh, why'd I do that? _she wondered as she leaned over and grabbed a bundle of white cloth. She pulled out her finger and wrapped it in the cloth, allowing the blood to seep through. After a while, the bleeding stopped, and she threw the stained cloth to the side and began to examine the object that had cut her. It was a screw, placed in the lowest region of the abdomen. It seemed to have no purpose, and 10 was very tempted to rip it out, but she assumed that it must have some purpose, so she left it.

She checked the plans for 6's design. Most of his outer structure was complete, and his inner structure was fine. All she needed to do was sew him up…

"Anna?"

She jumped, nearly stabbing her finger with the needle.

"Anna," the old toymaker asked drowsily, "What are you doing up so late, dear?"

10 quickly tied the knot and snapped the thread. She held up her creation. He was complete. "Ta-da!" she said, holding up the striped stitchpunk. "I finished 6 for you while you were asleep!"

The elder leaned forward, his smile wide. "Ahhh, how wonderful! You did an excellent job!" He squinted for a moment at the doll, as if it had a crazy part of it, like two heads.

'What?" she asked, almost irritated.

"Well…" he looked at it objectively. "You see, Anna… You sewed on two different eyes!" He turned 6 around to face her, chuckling. It was true—he had one silver optic, and one larger golden eye. 10 gaped at him, but burst in a fit of giggles at her own ridiculousness. "I'm sorry, Gramps," she said. For some reason, she had taken custom to calling him that, and he hadn't argued with it. "I'll fix him."

"No no, dear, it's quite alright," the toymaker held the doll up to further examine him, and gave a weak smile. "I like it. It gives him character."

"I gave him hair too. Doesn't that add character?"

"Most certainly."

10 watched as the old man tied the doll to the contraption, as he had done 5 other times, and 10 stood back as far from the machine as possible, as she had 5 other times. The process was the same, the same as it had been the past 5 times. Except this time, 10 watched.

6 had gone on his merry way, but 10 was left feeling empty inside. She wished she hadn't been so curious; she had watched as the toymaker situated his face in a mask, and as the button-like object that was held between the elder and 6 glowed bright green, an eerie aura was drawn from the man. He had gripped the table and shook as if possessed by an evil entity—and when it was through he collapsed against the table, too weak to even sit upright for several minutes. And 6 opened his optics as 10 took him down, her own eyes filled with tears and her pale freckled hands shaking. 6 struggled as all the others (safe for 5, of course) had done before him, but he squirmed much less and was quicker to trust her than even 2. And she let him go; as soon as the little stitchpunk had finished looking about and examining his new body, 10 took him to the door and placed him down.

He turned around and look up at her. He waddled over to her shoe and patted it softly. "Be okay," he said. It was almost as if he knew what she had seen, or what she was experiencing. "Promise."

10 nodded slowly. "I'll hold you to that," she whispered, her throat choked up. She didn't want to let him go.

6 smiled up at her with her favorite crooked grin before turning and going off on his merry way. 10 didn't even wait for his number to vanish before returning to the top floor.

Upon the completion of 8, the scientist was too frail to stand even hours after his creation's awakening. Once he could stand, his immediate thought was to begin the creation of 9.

10 had seen this pattern begin after 6 had left. She had figured that he didn't want her working alone on any of the others in case there should be more imperfections, but his hastiness didn't explain that. "Gramps, you can't try to make 9 now," she said.

"Anna, I must."

"No—"

"Annabelle."

She gritted her teeth. "Gramps, you're gonna kill yourself."

He only responded by looking up at her from his seat at the desk. That was all he needed to do. She knew now. She recoiled, her eyes welling up in tears. That had been the point, all alone. He had known that he wouldn't live to see all of his "children" wake.

He was going to leave her.

Alone.

10 stared out the window. It was murky with dust; it was almost impossible to tell what was happening outside. The world around the scientist's house was still and gloomy. The elder had long since gone off to bed. He had left his unfinished project on the table. The time was right, but she was procrastinating. She didn't want to do what she knew she had to do.

With a sigh, she finally gave in. She had to get going; there was no way of knowing how close to dawn it was. She peeled her sight from the window and made her way over to the cabinet that held all of the scientist's supplies. She reached in and grabbed a handful of everything: cloth, optics, wires, thread and needle, some leather and parchment. When her arms were full, 10 carried all of the materials over to the desk and lightly placed them down next to a burlap bag. She carefully began filling the bag, taking care not to make any noise or break any item.

Her bag filled, 10 took one last look around the lab. As gloomy as it was, it had become home to her in the months that she had spent with the scientist. She knew she would miss it. She turned to leave but suddenly froze. There was something she was forgetting. She turned slowly to the table where the unfinished, lifeless doll that would eventually become 9 lay. But it wasn't 9 that caught her sights. She didn't know him. For all 10 knew, he could be a complete jerk, or even worse, a total moron. No, what caught her attention was the odd talisman; that bronze-like circular object that she had watched transfer part of the scientist's soul into 6. That thing was her enemy, but it was her savior as well. It was her ticket to freedom. It was her ticket out of Hell.

"Sorry, Gramps," she whispered, nudging 9 out of the way and snatching the talisman, "I can't let you do this to me. So I'm doing it to you."

"Dammit!" 10 stamped her foot as the long sheet of red material once again slipped off the metal rods she had staked into the ground. She wasn't sure what she was trying to do, but it apparently wasn't working. "Just stay up, would you?" She violently thrusted the sheet back on the rods, and to her surprise it stayed. She sighed and crawled underneath.

Inside, 10 was surrounded with a red-tinted gloom. She felt nostalgic, as if she had been there before, but she couldn't remember when she had ever been there. She turned to a rock, where a green doll lie. She gingerly lifted it, holding it in her hands with all the care of a mother holding her new-born child. A ghost of a smile grew on her lips. She felt sad for some reason, almost regretful. She laid the doll down again and pulled a small black square from her pocket. She opened it with her thumbnail, examining the tiny pages. It was her journal. But it was so small… had it always been that small? She couldn't even write in it. She sighed and unzipped a pouch on the doll, slipping the journal inside.

10 reached into her bag, which was lying beside her, and pulled out a dark colored pen. Once again she picked up the doll, tapping the end of the pen to her chin. "I guess you need a name, huh?"

The doll didn't answer, only gapped up with empty black optics.

She sighed. "Well, what should it be, hmm? I mean, what would you like to be called? Alice? Newbie?" She held the doll up so that it was bathed in the light that snuck in from the opening behind her. "Greenie?"

She lowered the doll, now taping her thigh with the pen as she stared at the blank face of the green stitchpunk. _Maybe I should name it after what it's supposed to do? _She bit her lip and thought. _You're being created to do what? Record what happens to the world after everyone is gone, right? To analyze and remember… _

"Crap!" She held the doll back, suddenly realizing that she had been subconsciously circling the dolls eye with the pen, and it now had what looked like a dark monocle around its right eye. She held the doll to the light, and realized that the pen she had used wasn't even black – it was purple. "Ugh!" she dropped her hands into her lap in exasperation, staring irritatedly at the ruined face. She tried to wipe it away, only to smudge the still-wet ink down the side of the dolls face. She glared at it, but slowly her anger melted. Gripping the pen, she carefully drew a curve running down the dolls cheek, turning the purple circle into the letter P. It actually looked cute, in a quirky way. It gave the stitchpunk character.

But what did P have to do with anything? 10 didn't know. She thought long and hard, but found nothing.

And suddenly, as if her body knew something that she didn't, she turned and scrawled out a word on the rock. The bright stream of light illuminated the purple writing: P-S-Y-C-H-O-L-O-G-Y

_Psychology? What is that_? She didn't know, but apparently her body did. Her hand, once finished spelling out the word, began to tap each letter individually, as if it were counting them. Next thing she knew, the hands were flipping the doll over and carefully writing in a number on the back.

10.

"To explain us," she said, smirking as if it were a joke. "Like a psychologist, sorta."

Terror. That's what she felt. It was gripping her like the gnarled hand of the grim reaper, choking off the air into her lungs. She was running at high speed, chasing the swift iron beast ahead of her. "Get back here, you monster!" She lunged at it and was lucky enough to grab it by its cord-like backbone. The beast turned to see what had snatched it, its yellow eyes glowing menacingly; from its jaws hung the limp body of the 10 doll, swinging from the momentum of the beast's head.

With her free hand, 10 grabbed the nearest object and began beating the machine in its face. It yelped, so to speak, as one of its luminous eyes was broken from its head, and it immediately dropped the doll and bucked its captor off its back, sprinting away furiously. Once it was a good distance away, it turned back and snapped its jaws at 10, who furiously flung the stone that she had used as a bludgeon at it. She missed of course, making the machine cackle and wheeze as it stalked away into the rubble.

10 sat up, her body sore and her throat and chest in flames. She picked up the green doll; its side was gapping open, but apart from that it was mostly intact. She sighed in relief. Trembling madly, she stood and turned staring at the side of the cliff she had just sprinted down. She dreaded returning; her shelter was so far up, and she was so tired. With a sigh, she stuffed the doll into her pocket and slowly began to scale the side of the cliff.

10's hands trembled as she sat her doll up on the rock. She had been dreading this day, from the moment she had run from the scientist's house to now. Her finger shook uncontrollably as she placed the wiry structure in front of the little doll. She had fixed the stitchpunk's side with a red piece of cloth from the tent, and had added a cute little hood as well. She forced herself to smile; thinking about what she was about to do would only make the experience more painful, more frightening. She took a deep breath as she reached into her bag. Her body flinched as her fingers brushed against the icy metal talisman, and she forced herself to pull it out. She held it before her. It looked so cruel, its fascinating inscriptions mocking her.

She connected it to her makeshift structure, her stomach in knots. This was it, right? This was the end. This was her ticket out.

Her ticket out of Hell.

She tapped in the sequence on the talisman mindlessly, crouching in front of it as it began to glow. Her whole body was shaking, and she felt sick. She swallowed hard and held her breath as the talisman glowed a brighter green. She closed her eyes.

The pain was unbelievable.

She was suddenly aware of the whole of her body, of every strand of tissue that made up her flesh. It was unraveling, spiraling away as if it were threaded pulling away from its spool, opening her up and leaving her gaping and festering and burning and choking and suffering and suffering and suffering and suffering—

And suddenly she could see! She was certain she had not opened her eyes but she could faintly see it, the image of a young, red headed girl, her mouth open in angst and her eyes squinted shut and her body frigid in horror and terror and so so much pain…

And behind her shone the two eyes of a demon, one red, one yellow, glowing brightly in the pitch black night of lost civilization. It had come for her, come for revenge, to drag her to Hell. She had been wrong. This wasn't her ticket from Hell, but TO Hell. She wanted to scream but no sound came out, and she watched helplessly as the demon snatched the girl in its jowls and torn into her without mercy, the green flow of the girl's soul flickering and twisting with her body. 10 felt faint, her body ripping apart and becoming nothing but static, slipping from reality to imagination and back again.

_What are you doing? Do SOMETHING!_

_So useless. If you just sit there, you will cease to exist._

_Get off your ass and move! Now! Before it's too late!_

_Hang in there! It's almost over!_

_Now is the end, I can go in peace, now is the end I can go in piece, now is the end—_

_Now is the end—_

_Now is th—_

The terrified screams finally escaped, and they echoed through the night. It was dark, so dark, but 10 felt as if she were on fire, her body simmering with flames. But there were no flames. Only darkness.

She heard voices, a war tearing her thoughts to pieces in her mind, but through that and her screams were more voices. And hands, touching her—she recoiled, shoving herself back from the inpenetratable abyss, until her back slammed into something hard and cold and she felt the hands on her again, gripping her shoulders and arms, and the voices calling her name. Something had latched onto her and she searched madly until her hand grabbed something heavy, and she turned on her attacker, beating it until she was forced back against the wall, helpless.

"What is the meaning of all this racket?"

The room was suddenly illuminated; a very irritated old doll came stumbling into the room, a lit match in his hand. 1 glared directly at 10, knowing it was, of course, her causing the disturbance. Her screams melted to sobs and became the only sound audible, both inside and outside of her. Her tiny frame was shaking, held firmly down by a panting 5. A whimper came from the side.

"What is going on?" 2 followed 1 through the curtain, blinking his optics in the sudden change of light. "I heard screaming. Is everything alright?"

"It's ok. 10 had a bad dream."

"Oh is THAT all?" 1 grumbled and turned to storm away. As he left, 2 took the torch from him and approached the trembling, sobbing stitchpunk. "10, dear, it's alright. Nothing's going to hurt you." He gently placed his hand on her forehead, and she flinched and squirmed but was held tight by 5. Her breaths came in panicked gasps, and 2 sat beside her, pulling her into his arms. She yelped, but slowly calmed down as she listen to the gears slowly click in his chest. "There there…." he crooned. "It's alright. You're safe now. You're safe."

She finally settled, and slowly sat up, looking around bewildered. Where was she? How had she gotten in this room? She looked down at her hands and was surprised to see that they were made of black steel, not white flesh. She wiggled her eight fingers, the silver joint across her palm gleaming in the flickering flame from the torch. She looked up to see 5 knelt down beside 6, who was trying to cover a rip in his head with his hand. Slowly she began to understand what had happened, and where she was, and what she had just seen…

She froze. What had she just seen? She struggled to remember, and to her surprise she could still faintly recall the bizarre vision she had just endured. She scrambled with her zipper, trying to get into her pouch.

"10? What are you—"

"My journal!" she cried, not giving 2 a chance to finish. It was not in her pouch like it always was. "Where is it?"

2 pointed to the table next to the, where, sure enough, lie the black leather-bound book. She grabbed it and flipped it open to a random blank page, fumbling around in her pouch for her pencil.

"10 dear, what is it?"

She didn't respond. She didn't have time. Gripping her pencil tightly in her fist, she scrawled in big bold letters the message she needed to remember:

**I AM 10.**

**TO EXPLAIN US.**

**Whoa! It's been HOW LONG since I've updated?**

**That's right, kiddies! Lake Rodary has finally finished chapter 5! **

**Sorry it took so long. I've been REEEEEALY busy. College is a dick :( **

**But anyway…so ya. Finally finished Chapter 5, at 10 pages long and over 5,000 words! So proud of myself. You might need to go back and scan some of the older chapters to remember the context; I know I did. **

**In case you don't get anything in this chapter:**

**This whole chapter (Well most of it) was a dream 10 was having, but actually took place before she was created.**

**10 got her name from the word psychology. Count the letters in the word and you'll get it.**

**The last voice, the singing one, was saying "Now is the end, I may go in peace…." This isn't actually a song or lyrics; I stole it from the narration from a marching band show.**

**Well that's it for now. Don't know when I'll update again….hopefully soon….**

**Until next time! **


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